Summer

Sit upon the blanket of unmowed grass
Watch the formless clouds float by
And the occasional brunette lass
Jog by while you gaze on a seagull fly;

Smell the briny scent of the waves crash
A fresh breeze from the westward sky
That make a leaf dance from a nearby ash
Breath in deep, out comes a sated sigh;

Not too cold, the sun keeps company
Like a warm, avuncular, distant campfire;
Not too hot, the wind is in symphony
A day without aches and without tire

As Red bids goodbye to day and light.
Stars flicker greetings in summer night.
Filling my mind with vast heavenly sight.
Calm and beautious. Warm summer's night.

-Wren

Hand in Hand by Wren

Neutral

Sensation of nothing being there.
Nothing being here or there.
Just a clear day. No sun. No rain.
No fame or infamy. I'm just fair
And sure I'm here. I'm not insane
But I'm not sure if I'm sane
Either. Just bland color of grey.
Not white not black. Not blue
Either. Just bland color of grey.
Impartial being. A judge. Imbue
With the power to be without hue.
Still here. In safe color of grey.
Not hurt. Not joyous. Just grey.

-Wren

My Requiem

People say, the purple nightingale
Caught in thorny brambles, bleeding,
From the chords, it breathes an exhale
Of beautious melody as it's bleeding.
Ha. So you only lived once? I did more.
I killed off past mes. Lying in view
Somewhere deep down the blacken'd shore.
Lived, I. Spell it backwards. I'll show you.

I've lived through these thorny trees
Sung my final song with all the pains
And agonies that makes I, myself, me.
So I look up in the skys and rains
Greet me and fog up these glasses
I don't know if it's tears or water
That drip slowly off me, molasses.
Maybe after the downpour. Later.

So hear, hear. Here's my blood requiem.
To myself, a past, that is no longer here.
Get off my mind. Dose of good opium.
Here's my goodbye filled fears and sincere
Hopes for a better me. Not resuscitated
But an entity reformed of the insane.
Riddle into Voldemort. Spirit rended.
But third is the charm, alive again.

So I look up into the grey sky today.
The sun sneaks out. My hopeful ray.

-Wren

Inversion - by Wren

Schrodinger's Cat

Curious physicist found a magic cat
Locked in a box for years where it sat.
Is it dead or alive? He thought alone.
Too afraid to open for he had known
Schrodinger's cat might die when box disclosed.
Fear of death of cat, he kept it closed.
But he yearned and yearned to take the cat out;
He wanted the companionship the cat brought.

One day, he braced his timid heart and mind,
To open, to whether a live cat he'd find.
He set a time, planned it all. Butterflies
Danced in his gut, while his throat filled with sighs.
Day before he went to open the box,
He was shocked. Box was shattered. A fox
Held the kitten in his jaws by the neck
Alive. Cat was. He reached out for a peck
On the cat. But the fox trotted away
With his prize feline in a swing-sway.

Why did he fail to save the cat before the fox's move?
Why do people act the same with their unrequited love?

-Wren

Anthem of Discordia by Wren

Glass Lilies

Upon a foreign land of Kathmandu
Above festering streets and crowds,
Found an unknown gate to Xanadu
Red and greenness of morphing clouds.
As a sarangi master squeaked out tunes,
I enter'd through thousand eyed-walls
Below the archangel's gate du lunes.
To drop into a crimson-milk falls
Titanium ostriches cackled above
Earthy elephants and floral fiends.
Kosher salt rained down with love
As giant silicon ravens intervened.

Seven towers sprouted downward
Splicing the buttery concrete beneath
Revealing skin-boned Yeats the bard
Dancing barefeet with yuletide wreathes
Atop his head, with neon monocles
Singing metal-dubstep of jazzy blues.
Earthen crack spewed fire and oracles
In forms of Kevlar wingless cuckoos.
Machines acidified into quicksilver.
As the towers moved, the sun flashed
Into congealing rays of purple fever
As the bard kept jigging unabashed.

Down the towers into the great depths
I saw a field of Venetian masks
With thousand expressions in depths
Of these grotesque Venetian masks.
As they cried, laughed, and sneered
I ran as they gave chase like hornets.
Next I saw a forest of clones mirrored
Of myself mimic'd. Game and sets
And matched. So I keep running
And running and again running
Into something that is so stunning
With beauty that is so stunning.

A resplendent grove of crystal glass lilies.
That hum foreign cherubic songs
I want to pick one for you.
So I reach to pick one for you.
A deafening shatter and crack.
The world vanishes deep black.
Mere one glass lily remains.
I reach, but it slashes me crosswise
And as my hands filled with shards
Hold the crystal flower in my grip.
The Sandman releases his grip.


-Wren